By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
A second sign on Brewski's door advised people to visit Memories Sports Bar (8980 Federal Boulevard), which seemed a good idea since it was right down the road. As I walked in, I spied posters of Marlon Brando in The Godfather and the skinny '50s Elvis, which seemed like good signs, but I also thought the place seemed pretty slick and clean for a sports bar. Then again, Memories has only been open about seven weeks — although it was showing a "vintage" football game between the Packers and the Raiders that had to be at least a decade old.
The action was much more interesting at the bar, where two gals were talking to each other. One guy came in, sat down in the open seat next to them, had a quick beer and left. Then another guy did the same thing. The women didn't seem to notice either of them. Finally, a third guy came in, sat down and started chatting with them. And, yeah, the gals were a bit liquored up, but it was ladies' night, after all. (For the record, I know it seems like I always go to bars on ladies' night, but this time I just lucked out — if you could call it that.) Anyhow, the next thing I knew, one of the gals got up, went over to the guy, put her arm around his shoulder and asked if he shaves, trims or is a bush man. At first I thought maybe she was just asking how he prefers a woman's, uh, foliage, so I closed my eyes and concentrated on the conversation. Turned out she was basically asking the dude if he groomed his pubes. No need to get into the messy details of what they talked about next, but I had to give the girl credit for being so frank with her questions.
While I was eavesdropping, I managed to get through some tasty chili cheese fries, which would eventually give me enough gas to open a Shell station, as Tom Waits would say. I was also trying to pay attention to the selections coming out of the Internet jukebox, hoping that whoever played White Zombie's "Living Dead Girl" was not the same person who'd played Willie Nelson's "Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" — one of the more jarring musical juxtapositions I've heard in some time. Things improved once the DJ got on the turntables and spun a few '80s gems, like Nena's "99 Luftballons" and Soft Cell's "Tainted Love." At one point, the jukebox came on with the Doors' "Light My Fire" while the DJ was laying down a dance beat, and somehow it worked for about six seconds. Then it got to be a war on the ears, and I decided it was a sign for me to leave.
Club scout: Back in Denver (at 930 Lincoln Street, to be exact), Dazzle Restaurant and Lounge — named the Best Jazz Club in the Best of Denver 2007 — is starting to branch out into other genres. Earlier this month, it kicked off Soul in the City, its Monday-night feature during which poets, DJs and musicians lay down the neo-soul. And on Wednesdays, the club has fired up a new Rhythm and Roots night, where you'll get a chance to hear Americana and acoustic acts like the Boulder Acoustic Society, Flatfoot, Little Liza Jane and more.
Up the street at Sutra (1109 Lincoln Street), Quench After Dark, billed as "Denver's hottest and wettest gay dance party" starts on Sunday, July 22, complete with boys in bathing suits and DJ Amen on the decks.